Where to begin with this week's Trash? Probably at the beginning. Sadly, despite the hopes and wishes of all in attendance, we did not find ourselves back on the Ben Franklin Yacht or any boat for that matter. Most of those in attendance did, however, have to traverse the Schuykill to arrive at Cavanaugh's U City but, in typical lazy hasher fashion, they took the Turkey Split by using planes, trains, and automobiles. For shame. At least they all arrived on time. Sort of.

So much of trail felt like we were living in some kind of bizarro world:

At Chalk Talk, our seasoned RA Fort Dixalot forgot to introduce our virgins and visitors until after all the marks were explained (I'm guessing someone reminded him before we On-Outed).

Immediately following that flub, almost the ENTIRE pack ran in the opposite direction of the true trail arrow laid in chalk talk for at least two blocks despite the other half-minds' protests only to learn that the arrow was in fact indicating true trail.

Cut to three blocks later as we're hashing through UPenn's campus and a Muggle screams out, "Who are you?!" to the pack. I and several others were stunned and almost stopped in our tracks as we're so used to being asked "What are you running for?" I nearly replied to his jarring inquiry with "Beer!" out of habit but caught myself in time.

Later, I perked up at what sounded like the reappearance of the Hash Horn on trail because a) the pack and all of their orifices have missed it so and d) it would've meant that Ass Ass In Nation joined the pack. Nay, it was not to be as it twas just a SEPTA trolley proudly declaring its...trolleyness, I guess?

Taco? I Barely Know Her​ cameoed at pre-lube but only to return Fort Dixalot's camera gear to him; I don't recall seeing tacos on Cavanaugh's menu so I suspect he left in search of them.

Lastly, Sex Toys for Tots and Silence of the Goats brought the #700 hab bags but forgot the toe tags but that's okay because it means that the fond memories of that wonderful night will carry on to #702 (but not #703, we hope).

Now, I'd like to take some time to highlight the Trash valedictorian of #701: Just Anthony. He started off strong by making a virgin, Just Jamel, cum and just kept ramping up the acceptable hash behavior from there. He found the SN scarily fast as if with near pre-cognitive skill considering how well hidden it was under that train station's ramp (red and blue Powerades mixed with vodka(?), which Orgie Porgie Puddin' n' Pie was all to eager to drink as she held out for a blue shot before finishing her red one). Later, once the pack reached the BN, he expressed his joy at the boozy hydration formation on such a humid night by extolling, "It's so good when it touches my dick!" So, for future reference, maybe don't accept a beer from him? Lastly, his crowning achievement came back at the SN when he excitedly pointed out to all nearby not only the lady hobo by a tree taking a shit but also the two male hobos on the other side of the track apparently circle jerking each other off.

Speaking of Circle, the #701 Trash salutatorian easily goes to the Cavanaugh's ladies' restroom bathroom attendant, Mary, who initially watched our shenanigans commence from her chair inside the women's restroom through its open door (which, for the record, several of us asked her multiple times if it could be closed as it was super awkward but were denied). Next thing we know, Mary is right next to us witnessing in mostly rapt silence but she did share that she "had a [bar] tab named after [her]' at Cavanaugh's and even offered a suggestion or two for OPPP's renaming.

That's right, OPPP was renamed because of...reasons. After many embarrassing questions, fascinating answers, and mediocre-to-great name suggestions, all of which occurred in front of some weird, impromptu judges table of Pantyphile, Judge Doody, Blink 5'2", and Just Ryan, OPPPwas reborn as On Her Cycle thanks to her propensity for treating bike paths like Vegas off-Strip Super 8 motels.

Some final notes I'm too lazy to work into this annal:

60k9, Just Heidi, and me sussing out the mechanics of an Unsullied circle jerk session on "Game of Thrones" (they're all castrated warriors if you didn't know) and deciding that it would likely just be a game of sensual Ro-Sham-Bo.

At BN, Just Elvis and Slothy Seconds were about to On-Out but up walks Where's Mi d?​ to ask, "Oooooh, are you the hares? What's this you have here?" and immediately jams her hand in the flour bag. She was disgusted when it came out covered in flour. I guess she thought it was ice?

While we're on Just Elvis, he arrived in the basement of Cavanaugh's for Circle with a single hot wing in his mouth. When asked where he got it, he replied, "You don't want to know what I did to earn this."

Other mystery food at Circle included a chicken salad delivered by the bar staff to apparently no one as it sat on a table for awhile before Blink 5' 2" exclaimed that someone needs to "toss that salad!"

Going back to Where's Mi d?, can anyone explain what that hippopotamus shit Just Cline and her were talking about means? Something about sexualizing hippos, I think? Which did lead to a great retort by Post Traumatic Goose Disorder: "You just described my college."

And with that, may the Hash go in peace! (May the Hash get a piece!)On-On!​-Baaa! Ram Him

Just like our high school proms, we all met up with our friends before the big event to admire each other’s formal wear, this time at Morgan’s Pier. Instead of taking a limo to the big event, we ran a trail laid by Sex Toys For Tots. He was nervous about the pack making it to the boat on time, so he laid a short trail. A VERY short trail – lasting about a half a mile and taking the pack 10 minutes to run, we showed up about 50 minutes early to the boat. Sex Toys generously offered everyone a round on Goats’ credit card at Cavanaugh’s while we waited. In true Big Fucking Mess style, Goats had left her credit card at the first bar.

Once all the early hijinks were settled, we boarded the Ben Franklin Yacht and bee-lined for the open bar. We set sail and made our way up to the top deck for circle, led by Goose in a Canadian tux and Fort Dixalot looking like Hugh Jackman from the Prestige. Trying to rival Goats leaving her credit card, Thud Muffin apparently left his health insurance card at Cavanaugh’s. But Goats came back with the messy win, somehow leaving her panties on Morgan’s Pier. Angry Inch finally found a date to prom, but forgot to bring a condom. The whole pack cheered for not using a condom, I guess because Safety Third (#momvoice but really you guys should use condoms).

Then, the moment we’ve been dreaming about since middle school – electing prom king and queen, and watching the Angry Inch pass both crowns off. The field for prom queen was massive, and essentially turned into a social. Goose invented an efficient voting algorithm where he repeatedly split the field in half and kept the side that had the loudest cheers, eventually crowning Three Way Stop Prom Queen. Silence of the Goats triumphed over an otherwise-all-male field for Prom King.

Then we danced, didn’t break anything or lose anyone overboard (look how much we’ve improved since #650!), and on-aftered at Cavanaugh’s Riverdeck. Because it was Just Andrew’s last hash before moving to San Francisco, an impromptu naming happened, in which he was christened Stairwell to Heaven.

It was a dark and stormy night as the pack headed out for the 699th time. Quickly, they became lost on a Pantyphile hared trail. Suddenly, they found a check, and off they went to only get lost again at Sugarhouse. Just when hope was lost, a “J check” was found with a four loko and airplane shot to be had. Could it be? A shot near is finally here! Onto an abounded pier they went to get their shots until Mother nature had better ideas. The rain began falling ever so slightly. But the pack was not deterred. An annoyed apartment dweller shined their light at the pack but little did this person know, they already had their sights on the next part of trail. So off they went!

Rain rain and more rain. Most normal people would run for cover, but not when there is beer in your future. Along the trail they went in search of the beer near with shots a flowing through their bodies. What’s that I hear? “My name is Jack” being sung across the street for teens and a DIX awaiting for the Gorillaz. Finally the beer near is in slight! Should be right inside this door they thought. Up 1 flight of stairs they go, followed by another and another and another, 12 flights of stairs later, they are rewarded a roof top with beer, mixed drinks, amazing views of lightning over the bridge and mini-cup flip cup! And best part of all? The rain had stop on arrive up to the top!

After a much needed beer near and fun, the pack began their final journey back to The Druid's Keep. Down the huge slide they went to the ground floor and back out to the elements. Just when they thought it was on-in, another “J Check” they found with two shots for Emo kid and the slowest runner he could find.

Back at the bar they managed, where they met up with their auto friends to begin their favorite part of the night. A welcome welcome welcome greeted them by their famed RA Goose. The Hares. Down Down they went. The Virgins. Down Down they went. The Visitors. Meow Mewo they went. Auto hashers. Down Down they went. 1st in and last in. Down Down they went. Comes lately. Down Down they went. Accusations. Down Down went just about everyone. Before the night was over, they heard their much loved GOAT’s announcement of this cup that involves a mayor.

And so goes another Hash night into the history books, to be talked about in legendary status, just like the 698 that preceded it.